


The Forest of the Unicorn

by Rose_Nightshade



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angsty Schmoop, Fanart, Gen, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, TW Suicide mention, Unicorns, but nobody actually kills themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Nightshade/pseuds/Rose_Nightshade
Summary: Shiro stood transfixed, stark still and so quiet that he could hear his own heart pounding and the sound of his every breath was harsh in his ears. How could the thing in front of him bereal?He’d heard stories about unicorns, of course, them and manticores and gryffons and dragons and all manner of other fanciful things, but he’d never reallybelievedthem until this moment. He’d never had reason to. But there was no mistaking what was in front of him. It might not be flawlessly white like new fallen snow, but the powerfully elegant jet black creature in front of him, with its beautiful and singular spiral horn, was absolutely a unicorn.It was the most magnificent thing he had ever beheld.





	The Forest of the Unicorn

**Author's Note:**

> My brain wanted me to write this and so I did???? I just rly love unicorns, ok? ;^;
> 
> The illustration at the end is mine~!

The last thing Takashi Shirogane expected to encounter when he ventured into the forest was a unicorn. Let alone the ebony and midnight animal he’d abruptly come nearly face to face with.

It was like a horse, vaguely, in the way that he supposed a terrible painting could resemble a person. The creature wasn’t large, but it _was_ magnificent. At its shoulder it couldn’t have stood taller than his own chest height, though its muscled neck and head arched higher than his, and the pearlescent spiral horn jutting from the center of its forehead pierced the air a full three feet further at least.

Every bit of it was the color of cool shadow, of a moonless night sky, and the sheen on the sleek coat of its hide was like the sparkle of stars, even in the soft daylight of the forest. Its mane and tail were a cascade of unruly but beautiful growth, and just as jet black as the rest of it, every shift reflecting blues and purples and faint magentas like the feathers of a fine messenger raven. The only pure color present in the black animal was its eyes, a deep indigo blue so dark that he’d at first mistaken it for black or purple until the creature shifted its posture, and dappled light glanced off it.

Shiro stood transfixed, stark still and so quiet that he could hear his own heart pounding and the sound of his every breath was harsh in his ears. How could the thing in front of him be _real?_ He’d heard stories about unicorns, of course, them and manticores and gryffons and dragons and all manner of other fanciful things, but he’d never really _believed_ them until this moment. He’d never had reason to. But there was no mistaking what was in front of him. It might not be flawlessly white like new fallen snow, but the powerfully elegant jet black creature in front of him, with its beautiful and singular spiral horn, was absolutely a unicorn. 

It was the most magnificent thing he had ever beheld. 

Surprisingly, it hadn’t seemed to have noticed him, in spite of his closeness. He wondered what it would do if he _did_ catch its attention, and his heart began pounding all the harder. Gorgeous as the animal was, the obsidian coat covered a lean body of sleek muscle made for running, and the protrusion from its forehead, he suspected, could prove to be as deadly a spear as it was beautiful a sight. 

Shiro swallowed down his awe, a slow sensation of calm stealing over him, like a warm blanket settling across a comfortable bed on a cool night. He’d come to this forest to die, intending that he would be the one to end his own suffering, but the thought of a thing such as this killing him instead... he realized he would be completely at peace with that possibility. 

His careful breath caught in his chest unexpectedly - as it often had as of late - stealing his strength and pulling him into a coughing fit that instantly drew the attention of the until then oblivious unicorn, at the same time that gravity and weakness drug the human to his knees. Shiro was certain that the animal would either attack him or flee as he knelt on the forest floor, one hand clutching his chest as he tried to draw in enough air to full his struggling lungs. But when his body finally saw fit to grant him mercy, the creature was still there, standing utterly still save for the flare of its nostrils and the faint ripple of its hide about its dark shoulders. Shiro lifted his head, still panting and struggling for every breath, charcoal eyes meeting the intelligent but wary indigo of the mythical animal. 

Instantaneously, he was enthralled in a way he hadn’t been before. He understood why there were songs sung in honor of these creatures, tales passed down through generations, and wistful stories written by those who’d claimed to have seen one. The fascination with the possibility of capturing one. The clench in his chest eased, and his breath came to him easier than it had for ages. He wondered, distantly, if the thing had bewitched him, but more presently, didn’t care in the slightest. 

——

The unicorn, for its part, eased very slowly out of its statuesque posture, whickering quietly and soft in the manner of a horse as it lowered its head to examine this intruder in his forest more closely. The human wasn’t afraid, that much was clear to him. He _should_ have been, seeing the herald of death that he was, but perhaps he simply wasn’t aware. Unicorns were rare, after all, and black unicorns such as himself even more so. 

Hesitantly, he took a single cloven hoofed step towards the human to investigate it closer. The dusk-gray eyes never left his own, and he saw no fear reflected in the soulful orbs, though behind them lurked pain. It was then he noticed that the human had a full head of pure white hair, and a scar prominently across his face, features oddly out of place on one that looked otherwise so young. Also that despite being so deep into the forest, the human was carrying next to nothing on his person. He wore no armor, no mail, no leathers even. And unless he had left them behind at some distant campsite, he had no supplies, not even a water skin, which by the sound of his cough, would have done him good. There was a knife on his belt, and little else, but the weapon gave him no pause. 

The longer he spent looking into the young man’s pained eyes, the more he could see. And the more he began to remember, to recognize. The unicorn was a herald of death, and it was this human that he was here for, the reason he’d felt drawn to the clearing in the first place. The man kneeling in front of him was dying - had been dying - for a very long time, and had come here to end himself. They were here for one another. 

Sorrow flowed through him as he continued to stare down at the human that remained transfixed, and he took a second slow purposeful step forward. And then another. 

As he did, he felt himself change. 

———-

Shiro thought maybe he was falling asleep, or must have been already, or most certainly at the very least that he was seeing things due to having almost suffocated in his efforts to breath moments ago. Because he saw the creature in front of him shimmer and morph, blurring at the edges, and someone warp itself into the shape of a human man. His eyes widened and he let out an astounded gasp, certain finally that he’d gone mad. 

“You’re so beautiful...” The words rushed past Shiro’s lips without permission, barely a whisper, but full of sincerity. He worried it would spoke the man who had been an animal, but thankfully it didn’t. Instead he continued to be awed as the (former?) unicorn sank slowly and gracefully down to his knees less than an arm’s length away and just stared at him. 

_Are all unicorns able to shape shift?,_ he wondered silently, _Or is it only black unicorns? Or perhaps it's a skill unique to this one?_

“This is what you need me to be. So this is what I am.” The unicorn’s voice was deeper and richer than he would have expected, much more purely human. 

Shiro hadn’t expected him to speak at all, and the sound of it stole his breath away again. A thousand questions had taken up residence in his mind, like too many small birds in a single cage with not enough room for any of them to fly without impeding one another. So instead of speaking, he silently drank in the vision of male beauty the magical thing had become. For reasons unrelated to the pain of his illness, his heart ached at the sight. 

A once dark coat of fur had transformed into faintly tan - and very naked - flesh, the long mane into human hair that was much the same, framing a handsome heart shaped face. Mostly hidden behind a dark side swept forelock, his forehead bore some sort of pale white, nearly luminescent starburst shaped mark where his horn had previously been. The human eyes remained exactly the same color, and were still framed by thick black lashes. Shiro could so easily lose himself in those indigo eyes, he thought, before another series of chest punching coughs hauled his attention away against his will. 

Hands on his cheek and shoulder startled him out of his coughing fit, head jerking up in surprise to see the unicorn turned man only inches away. 

“You’re dying.” The words were obviously more statement than question, and they were sad. 

Shiro wondered how he could know that, but the gaze fixed on his hand drew his own eyes down to it, and he saw the splatter of blood resting crimson in his palm. He didn’t have long any more, which was exactly why he had ventured so deep into the old woods, so he saw no need to deny it. Swallowing down the copper on his tongue, he admitted it aloud. 

“Yes... its why I came here. To end myself. I have no one, I have nothing, every breath is pain and I grow weaker by the day. I don’t want to leave a corpse on the side of a road, to be scoffed at by strangers in pity. I’d rather give myself back to the Earth Mother, disappear into the roots of the trees, into the grass and flowers, allow myself to vanish on my own terms. But I’m grateful... to met something as wondrous as a unicorn before I depart...” Every word felt like a weight lifting from him on gossamer wings, like giving this being his confession was exactly what he needed to finally be at peace. A smile pulled at lips that he was quite sure were blood stained. The hand on his cheek felt warm and soft, an intimate touch that he’d not felt since his mother and father had died many turns past. It brought tears to his eyes. 

“.......You don’t have to.” The words were as cryptic as the voice was lovely, spoken softly and deliberately, a forbidden invitation. 

“I don’t have to... die?” Shiro was confused, how could such a thing be? But it was the only thing that the man could be talking about that even remotely made sense.

A faint nod from the strange man was his only immediate answer. 

“H-how? I’m ill, my body is failing me, I don’t understand-“ He wanted to hope, but hope had only brought him pain when he indulged it in the past. Hope was full of danger, pretty as it might seem at the time. Shiro couldn’t afford hope, it had already cost him too much. 

“You know what I am, you can see me. I was able to take this form because you can see me, because you know me. I’m a herald of death, Shiro.” The words were still soft, but they were bone chilling. And almost enough so that he missed the unicorn-man calling him by his name. 

“You’re an angel of death?” Shiro’s throat felt suddenly tight, and his eyes pricked with unshed tears. To his shock, the creature turned man smiled at him in faint amusement. 

“No. I’m not an angel. I’m a Marmora, a midnight unicorn. I am... here for you. But... You’ve been hurt, you’ve suffered, you’ve suffered so much, for so long... but you’re still bright inside despite the pain in your eyes. Your body dies, but you don’t have to die with it. You can come with me, if you want to.” The words were oddly shy, like he was worried the offer would be refused. 

“How... do you know my name?” It seemed important, something that needed answering before he could accept anything on offer. 

“Because you can see me, Shiro... Because as I said... you _know_ me.” 

“But... I’ve never seen a unicorn before...” Confusion overtook him as he wracked his woefully inadequate memory. 

“I wasn’t one, then. Not when you knew me.” His voice and mannerisms were becoming more sure with every word and motion, more human. Like he was remembering himself. “I mean... I was. But I was this. You saw this.” The raven haired man gestured vaguely at his naked form, sitting just that much closer than he had been, seeming unbothered by his nakedness on the forest floor. 

“You were... human? I’ve met you before?” Shiro was certain he’d remember such a beautiful young man, but he didn’t. As much as his heart had swelled upon seeing the unicorn, and as handsome a man as he had become, he didn’t remember him. 

“When I was young, and lost... many turns ago... a kind Paladin helped me, for no reason other than that he was good.” A careful hand found Shiro’s cheek and caressed it with a feather light touch, dark blue eyes searching for recognition in the gray holding his gaze. Mournfully, finding none, he continued his story. “He was young too, new to his posting. But he made time for me. More than he needed to. He was called the Black Lion, for his hair, and his ferocity, and his bravery… I loved him… I love you, Shiro…” His voice trembled on the words, like saying them caused him physical pain.

With a gasp and a shock of pain, Shiro’s memory came flooding back, unlocking with the soft confession of love. In flashes of powerful emotion, fragmented shards of images, places and people, all out of order and making no sense. They overwhelmed him, wave after wave of forgotten things, people, even things about himself. And then, in the middle of all the chaos- “Keith. You... You’re Keith. Keith Kogane...” 

Tears welled up in the bright indigo eyes, relief etching itself into the once unicorn’s expression. “That’s right. That’s right, I’m Keith. You remember me...”

“I was... I was cursed...” His chest felt heavy, heart weighing him down with decades upon decades of forgotten memories restored. Something lingering and painful tingled along his right arm in frigid warning. “I was cursed, and made to forget...”

“You disappeared, so long ago... I thought you were dead. No one knew what happened to you... Shiro where have you been?” 

“Lost... I’ve been lost for so long I barely remembered who I am...” He looked up at Keith with frightened and sad gray eyes. “A witch, a terrible evil witch cursed me before I slew her. She cursed me to forget, to die slowly as my memories did... Oh gods, I remember now. I remember _everything_ that I lost... Keith, Keith I’m _so sorry_ , I never meant to abandon you-”

“I know Shiro... I know... you would never...” With a gentle touch Keith brushed away the tears sliding down the former Paladin’s cheeks. It hurt to see him like this, laid low and nearly powerless for only ever doing what was right. 

It was an unjust world they inhabited, and at times, Keith loathed it. Even creatures like himself held little power in the face of the world’s indifference to constant change. And too often the most that mere mortals could hope for was a life of little pain, lived long enough with room for at least a little bit of love to be had.

But most were not that fortunate.

And Shiro... Shiro had obviously been forced to live a long life, much too long by the count of turns that Keith could recall, the white of his hair and the old scars on his skin evidence of such harsh circumstances. But he’d lived a long life with so much _pain_ , without his memory, and without love. The witch had extracted a terrible price in her defeat, a price which she had made Shiro pay. 

Just how terrible made itself even more apparent when Keith drew back to drink in the sight of him again, and gasped softly at the sight of Shiro’s right arm, the flesh completely blackened up to his elbow, a change which had only taken place during their woefully short reunion. A further depth of horror to the curse. Death, ensured upon the remembrance of what he’d lost, and overtaking him quickly. The witch had been a truly cruel one.

But Keith drew comfort from the knowledge that there was still something he could do. There was still time. As long as- 

“Come with me.” The words were urgent, his expression grave, but Keith took Shiro’s blackened hand anyway, carefully intertwining their fingers together. He ignored the faint burn he felt in touching the cursed flesh. It was a very small price to pay to comfort the man he loved. 

“I don’t understand. Come with you where?” 

“You will. Just come. _Please_ , Shiro” Gently, he helped pulled the much larger man to his feet as he stood up himself, making sure that Shiro didn’t wind himself in the process. He didn’t have long, it was easy to see from the creeping tendrils of black under his flesh. Keith would have to act fast. 

“I’ll come with you... but I still don’t understand-”

“Magic, Shiro. Magic that I can do only once. To steal you away from death, to be with me instead. But we have to go. We have to be on ground no human has stepped on. Deeper in the forest. And you don’t have long, we don’t have time to waste.” 

Shiro’s eyes were drawn to his own arm, hand clasped against Keith’s as he pulled him forward, and he drew a sharp inhale at the unexpectedly blackened skin. So this was the end result of the curse... they truly didn’t have time to spare. The tingling sensation he’d ignored had become the prick of pins and needles steadily climbing his arm, and he knew instinctively that if it reached his head, he was done for. So he followed his companion further into the old forest, hoping they could reach whatever place Keith was aiming for before his lungs gave out, before the taint of the curse killed him. 

It felt like hours passed, and each breath became slow torture for him, each step a shooting pain through his body like a sword, his arm an unquenchable fire. They had to stop many times due to his fits of violent coughing, but Keith never let him rest for long, he couldn’t afford to. And just as Shiro was on the edge of collapse, Keith came to an abrupt halt, spinning around to face him with relief painting his perfect face.

“Here. We’re here.” Keith brought his hands up to frame Shiro’s face between them, smiling tightly.

Shiro could do barely more than muster a small smile of his own in answer, his strength completely gone. “And... now?” His voice was a pale shadow of itself, throat raw from exertion. 

“Now we can be together. Forever.” Keith offered no further explanation, only surged up onto his tip toes to press his lips against Shiro’s with passionate force. 

An all consuming, soul searing, unreserved expression of love, the feeling instantly spreading beyond his lips, invading his very being. With it, he felt himself change. 

————-

It has been hundreds of turns since the names of the Evil Witch Honerva and the courageous Black Lion Takashi Shirogane have long been forgotten. But the forest of the unicorns is still known. 

Magic may have hidden or even died across most of the world, but not in a small corner of it, where the woods stay verdant and lively in the summer months, bloom with radiant color during those of the fall, hush peacefully under blankets of snow during short winters, and blossom with flower and leaf and life of every variety at the start of spring. Magic still lives in one forest, and the unicorns keep it, or so the legends say. 

 

Mothers will tell their children not to play there, not because the woods are not safe - they are the safest land on the continent - but because the pair of creatures that live there are owed respect, and human things aren’t welcome. 

Fathers will dismiss the matter out of hand if their children ask, because as we all know, most men are fools. 

 

Hunters will tell you they are guardian spirits, not things of flesh and blood, and if you dare hunt game there for trophy or sport rather than need, a black specter will appear to chase you away. 

Harpers and Minstrels that still sing and play the old stories will weave a tale too ludicrous to be believed, one of a mystical creature, able to disguise itself as mortal, who then took a human for a lover long ago, and selfishly turned him into a beast as well, so that they would never be parted.

The Young will boast and claim to have seen the unicorns, one dark and small, with a cream colored horn, like a living thing of obsidian and pearl, the other white and larger than a draft horse, luminescent and bright as moonlight, save for one black foreleg. 

What none of them know, is that almost all of the stories are true.

And that even now, if you venture into a certain forest, in a certain part of the world, at just the right time, on a moonless night, you may see a white unicorn with a single black leg in the depths of shadow. Or, on a bright day, when the sun is blinding even through the filter of the thick canopy above, there is the chance that you might catch a glimpse of living shadow, not quite able to hide in the bright splendor of the forest he and his partner still protect. 

But the legends are old, after all, and the last thing anyone would ever expect to encounter when one ventures into the woods is a unicorn, let alone two.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! (LMAO I just realized I'm posting this on my own birthday.... XD hahahaha)
> 
> You can find me on twitter, if you like!  
> twitter.com/RoseNightshade


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